Touche
by Educate the Masses
Summary: Eames lets Bobby know exactly how she's feeling. Set after Purgatory.


This is my take on what should have happened after Purgatory

Disclaimer: We all know who these guys belong to.

Spoilers: Purgatory

AN: This is my take on what should have happened after Purgatory.

Goren POV

I don't get what her problem is. Yes, ok, I left her out of the loop on this one. And I can understand some hurt feelings about the whole thing, But she should let me explain; she should try to understand. I've gotten her into enough trouble. The Chief was after my ass from the beginning. She wants me to go against the Chief and let her in…she knows that she wouldn't be able to leave well enough alone. Just "telling her" would not have been the end of it. She would have been in it up to her eyeballs just like me. If the Chief found out about that I would never have gotten my badge back, and she might have lost hers as well.

Well, I'm going to get my two cents in one way or another. She is going to hear me out on this. I am driving to her place and she's going to listen to me.

My driving is erratic, almost dangerous, and I chuckle because it makes me think about Eames not letting me drive. The problem is that my mind is running a mile a minute about what I want to say to her. When my mind runs like this, my hands move and that affects the driving. I cannot believe I have my badge back. Now, I'll just get Eames straightened out and this will all be back to normal.

My lucky day – I get a parking spot right out front. Just in case I need a quick getaway. I hop out, and I have that funny feeling just under my diaphragm. You know the feeling…the shit's about to hit the fan (again) and you know you're going to be covered in it.

I'm standing on her doorstep and she opens the door. I have to admit I'm not prepared for what I see. Eames has been crying. Whether she's crying out of sadness or anger I'm not sure (but I am sure I'll find out shortly), but I'm a guy and I do not like to see a woman cry. Her eyes are red and a little puffy. Her cheeks are tear-stained and red from the irritation of the salt in the tears and wiping them away. But it's the look in her eyes that gets me the most. She is still very angry and this intensifies the feeling under my diaphragm -- the feeling of anticipation and fear.

She has been home long enough to change. She's wearing some black, somewhat loose fitting pants that settle low on her hips and light green tank top – no bra. I hate seeing her like this, because I cannot ignore the fact that she's woman. It's not easy to do anyway. Eames is an attractive woman, objectively speaking, but seeing her like this kind of throws it in my face. And I am easily distractible.

"Can I come in? Eames, we have to talk."

She steps to the side and gives me a wide berth into the room. I walk into the house and take everything in. Not much has changed since the last time I was here. Eames is not the neat freak that I am, but she's not a disaster either. The only things that really strike me as out of place are the magazines on the floor in complete disarray, like someone cleared it with one swipe. Good, she's getting some of her frustrations out. As I turn to face her I say, " Eames, please hear me ou—"

I didn't even see it coming. She has a powerful right hook. It made a very solid connection with the left side of my jaw. So solid, that I am really seeing stars. Damn, that hurt.

Eames POV

"Damn that hurt!"

My knuckles are screaming. It's been a long time since I've punched (assaulted) someone. And even though it hurts it also feels good.

"EAMES! What are you doing?"

"Kicking your ass!" I say as I take another swing at him. He dodges this one, but I catch him on the right side of his ribcage with my left fist. He wasn't expecting that either. He's doubling over now and I am resisting a strong urge to kick him while he's down. Okay, so I don't always resist urges so well. I shove him with both hands, and he lands with a large thud on his ass.

"Come on Goren. Get up! Hit me back! You better get up, because I'm not through with you yet."

I didn't know I was going to hit him when I let him in, but I opened the door and he was just standing there. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his tie was gone, and his sleeves were rolled up. I could tell he was ready to hash this out for the next 6 hours, and that pissed me off. It would have taken him all of half an hour to tell me about his undercover stint, but now we have to "fix" this and that's going to take hours of talking. And I'll be damned if I'm going to break down and cry in front of him again.

"I'm not going to hit you, Eames." He says as he picks himself up off the floor.

"Why not? Let me guess. Some noble reason like, 'Because you're a girl, and I don't hit girls.'"

"What's wrong with that reason?"

"Absolutely nothing, Detective. And when you drag your beat up body into work tomorrow you can explain that to everyone. I'm still going to beat the crap out of you, so you better fight back."

"Is this going to make you feel better Eames? Is this what it's about? You want to make me feel as bad as I made you feel? I can take it. Bring it on. But I'm not going to hit you back. And you have to know that I feel terrible about hurting your feelings."

"Hurting my FEELINGS? You are such an ass, Goren!" I land another jab square in the middle of his chest. I think he was ready for it, but it still caused him to take a few steps back. "What am I in the 8th grade, that you have to apologize for my feelings? It doesn't change anything. Given the chance to do it over again, you'd do the same thing again!"

"Yes. Yes I would. If you would just hear me out…"

I come at him again, he catches me off guard. My brothers pointed out that weakness to me years ago, and I forget every time. It's like that scene in the Cold War submarine movie, where the sub turns into the oncoming torpedo and they collide before it has time to arm itself. Goren is the sub (of course); I'm the torpedo. He grabs both of my arms and forces me against the wall. He holds my hands over my head and presses his legs against mine. Good for him. Trying to protect the family jewels.

"Eames, we have to get through this. I did all of this to get my badge back. To come back to work. With you. Please try to see my side in this."

His. Side. All I see is red.

I gave him my best head-butt and missed his nose, but caught his bottom lip. It split open and blood quickly ran down his chin. To his credit, he did not let me go. He leaned his forehead against mine with enough pressure that I could not move.

"All I want to do is beat the crap out of you, Bobby. You need to fight back or leave. I am not in the mood to talk."

I can smell the blood coming from his lip, and it's dripping from his lip onto my chest. I feel it running down my chest and under my shirt. I can feel his breath on my face, and I can hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. We stand there like that for what seems like an hour, but was probably only 30 seconds.

I am still livid with him, but I am running out of energy. I am not sorry. Not in the least. Maybe he'll think twice before pulling this crap again. Maybe.

"I'm a lover not a fighter, Eames. You know that." And he's gone. He released me and walked out the door.

Touché, Bobby. Touché.

_Wow. That felt good. It's what I would've done. The movie was "The Hunt for Red October." One of my favorites._


End file.
